


No Takebacks

by HelloAfternoon



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drinking, Drunk Sex, M/M, POV Poe Dameron, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 10:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6190906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloAfternoon/pseuds/HelloAfternoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe finds out that Finn is a clingy, sweet sort of drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Takebacks

Drunk Finn is a spectacle.

Somehow, he’s everything Poe wanted him to be. Plenty of people can be unpleasant drunks-Poe himself has a reputation as being a bit of a shit starter-but Finn is of another breed entirely.

He’s hanging off of Jess’s arm, head on her chest. She’s giggling into her hand, a bottle of bootlegged hooch clasped in the spare. The tips of her ears red and her eyes are screwed shut.

“I love you,” Finn says, for the ninth time in the past seven minutes.

“I know, you keep saying that,” she responds.

“He’s a real charmer,” Snap snorts, throwing back a swig of something unmarked.

Finn had never had alcohol before-it's forbidden in the First Oder, apparently-and Poe couldn’t think of any better way to celebrate his release from physical therapy than to let him get (safely) shitfaced among friends. Finn had happily agreed, ready to take on anything he previously wasn’t allowed. Anything the First Order denied him, he now demands. Poe can't say he blames him.

Honestly, Poe had thought it would be a good opportunity. Better Finn get it out of his system in a group of trusted friends than try it on his own. Poe knew the ins and outs of drinking, he’d be able to keep Finn’s first experience from being terrible. It’d help Finn loosen up a bit, too; he always seemed to be waffling between a complete touchy mess and being so contained and regimented in every aspect of his life that it seemed suffocating.

“Finn,” Poe says, trying to get his attention. “Finn, buddy!”

Finn looks up from his position on Jessika’s boob, squinting slightly, his eyebrows high on his face, a grown man looking like an upset infant.

“Breastfeed him, Pava,” Snap comments. Jessika kicks him under the table.

“These tits are for my eyes only,” She says.

“Poe,” Finn finally replies, smiling a crooked, halfway-smile that makes one of his eyes squint up more than the other.

Poe can’t help giggling. He was pretty drunk earlier, but has since sobered slightly. _Slightly._ They’d given Finn ale for the first run, and after about ten trips to the bathroom, he’d managed to get drunk. "Go easy on him," Poe had said to Jessika the night before, "he’s never poisoned himself before."

“You okay, buddy?”

“I’m okay,” Finn says.

Poe has had a couple bottles of water ready to swap between the two of them, and he grabs the remaining one. They’re situated in the common area of the pilot’s wing, fortunately devoid of company; it’s late at night and most are either in bed or out partying, so they have the area to themselves. He unscrews the cap from the bottle and offer it to Finn.

“No,” Finn whines, smashing his face back into the awaiting breasts he’s been almost falling asleep on for the past half an hour.

“Finn, drink it. You’re going to get dehydrated and that's going to make things terrible later,” Poe insists, nudging him with the bottom of the bottle. Finn whines but takes it, having trouble bringing the opening to his lips. He bangs himself in the teeth with it once, giggles, and then downs about half of it. That’ll have to do.

“I _loff you,_ ” he gurgles into the water. Poe laughs gently, experiencing a feeling akin to watching a puppy fall down.

“I love you too,” Poe answers back.

"I love you,” Finn says again.

“He’s a broken record,” Snap laughs. “Poe, don’t encourage him. He’s a lovesick drunk.”

“You’re so great,” Finn breathes and leans forward until he’s almost falling. Poe leans up to catch his head on his shoulder and Finn’s forehead slams into his collarbone.

"Ouch,” Poe hisses.

“He’s _beating you up,_ ” Jessika cackles.

“I’m sorry,” Finn says. “Everything is stu-stupid right now, I need to…” he does not say what he needs to do, just makes a dizzy gesture with his right hand. Poe just nods and takes another swig of his drink and-shit, it’s almost gone? When did it get almost gone?

“I gotta take a piss, try not to let Finn propose to anybody,” Jessika says, finally released from Finn’s trap. She gets up and stumbles off in another direction, slapping the back of Snap’s head on her way.

“Everything is moving,” Finn whines.

“You’re drunk,” Poe says gently, unable to stop himself from smiling, patting Finn’s shoulder.

“I’m not drunk,” Finn insists.

“This is what drunk is, Finn,” Poe chuckles. Things are a little swimmy and blurry for him, too. He sympathizes. Honestly, Finn drank way more than he did the first time he drank, but...Finn is also much _bigger_ than he was the first time he drank. He was fifteen and barely over a hundred pounds, so he went from fine to terrible pretty quickly. At first, Finn had seemed to be taking it all in stride.

And then the “I love you” nonsense started.

“Oh, but it’s so horrible,” Finn says, pushing himself up by Poe’s shoulders, looking at him with sad, bleary eyes. “This is so bad, why do people want th-this?”

“It’s fun until it suddenly isn't, usually,” Poe says. “You were having fun, right?”

Finn nods and exaggerated nod, like his head is made of concrete and his neck isn’t strong enough to hold it up. “Yeah, I’m having fun,” he says. “So much fun, this is _so nice,_ ” he says, smiling broadly.

“Here, give him this,” Snap advises, handing Poe a piece of a small loaf of bread he’s been working at as a snack. Poe holds it up for Finn, who screws his face up, grunts, and looks way. Poe laughs.

“Eat it, you’ll feel better,” he says.

"Yes, doc,” Finn answers back, grinning again. Poe waits for Finn to take the bread out of his hand, but he doesn’t. In stead he leans suddenly forward and opens his mouth, taking the bread from Poe’s fingers, and...Poe’s fingers with it.

Snap laughs.

"He’s gonna bite your dumb ass,” Snap cackles.

“He’s not biting!” Poe insists.

Indeed, Finn isn’t biting. In fact, what he just did seems to have been a gross miscalculation as to the distance between his face and Poe’s hand, because he gags slightly and looks confused before drawing back, chewing the bread slowly.

“You slobbered on my fingers, Finn,” Poe snorts and giggles and-ah, crap. He’s drunk, too.

“M’sorry,” Finn whines, sounding so heartbreakingly genuine that Poe wants to kiss him.

Well, Poe wants to kiss him all the time, but he stomps that little thought out before it has the chance to cause a brushfire.

“I'm back!” Jessika announces, flopping back down into her seat and cracking open another bottle. “What’s Finn doing?”

“Trying to swallow bread,” Snap laughs, watching the whole debacle with an amused glint in his eye and bread crumbs in his beard.

“Pff,” Jessika snorts, giggling and almost falling out of her chair.

“I gotta pee again,” Finn grumbles around the mouthful of as-of-yet-unswallowed bread-mush, getting up and wobbling slightly to the quiet “ _whoa there_ ” and extended arms from the rest of the table, all ready to catch him at once. Then he walks off by himself.

“I think it might be time to call it a night,” Snap sighs, popping the last of the bread into his mouth and looking after Finn. “You dump any more booze down his throat and we’ll all be in trouble tomorrow.”

"I’m _already_ gonna be in trouble tomorrow,” Jessika groans, rubbing her temples preemptively.

Poe snaps back to attention and realizes that he and Finn are facing each other, leaning on each others shoulders for support like...a two legged tripod. Which would be a bi-pod. When did Finn get back from the bathroom?

“Bi-pod,” he says. And then laughs, at himself or possibly at nothing.

“Poe, go to bed,” Snap says. “Your tolerance is shit and your boyfriend is drunk.”

“Okay, okay,” Poe says, blinking hard and trying his damn best to sober up. “He’s not my boyfriend.” C’mon, Poe. That last drink can’t do you in now!

He pushes Finn up only to find him lazy-eyed and half asleep. He claws weakly after Poe.

“C’mon, buddy,” Poe mutters. “We’ll bunk together tonight.”

“Can you two make it to your room okay?” asks Snap, who takes his alcohol the best and is the most sober of the group. Lucky fuck.

“Should be fine,” Poe replies, dizzied and stupid but painfully familiar with his limits. “Might take us a while getting up the stairs, but we’ll mah-” he slurs a bit and loses track of his words before starting again, “-manage, right, Finn?”

Finn gives him a sideways thumbs up, but looks really sad about the whole _stairs_ situation.

“Poe, I love you,” he says, again.

“Okay, okay. Disbanding for tonight,” Snap commands. “C’mon, Iess. I’ll walk to to your quarters,” Snap says, probably saddled with the duty of picking up after Jessika.

“I love you Jess!” Finn shouts, even though she’s moved an entire two feet away from him.

“I love you too!” she shouts back at him.

"You two, stop it,” Snap grouses, clearly having sobered up at least a bit, hooking an arm under Jessika’s armpits and hoisting her away, along with a couple empty bottles and a squashed cardboard case that used to contain ale.

Finn looks straight up at the ceiling. “I love you, Rey!” And then he smacks his hand over his mouth, slobbers on it, and flings it back into the air in an absolute fuckup of a blown kiss.

“You think she force-heard that?” Poe snorts out, accidentally spitting more than he wanted too. Oops.

“I miss her _so much,_ Poe,” Finn whines.

"I know, pal, I know. Up, up,” he coaxes, standing on unsteady legs. The world around him blurs and jerks to the side and he has to catch himself before he falls, just barely managing to catch the edge of the table and support himself. It’s like he’s in a snowglobe that some asshole won’t stop shaking.

“Up, up, up,” he says again. This time Finn obeys, grabbing onto Poe’s upper arms with big, blunt hands and dragging himself to his feet. His clunky leather boots, issued by the Resistance and worn by soldiers, thud against the duracrete. His hair is a blurry black mass that Poe stares into for too long while his brain catches up to his body.

“Think you can walk?” Poe finally asks.

“M-hm,” Finn answers, blinking and straightening his shoulders and trying to get a grip on the world around him.

“Walk around your chair,” Poe commands.

Finn does. He doesn't do it _perfectly_ , but he does it. Good enough.

“Alright, lets go,” Poe says. Finn instantly reaches out and takes his hand. In any other situation-if they were sober-it might've been weird, but Poe instantly accepts the gesture, wrapping his hand around Finn’s. To hell with it. Finn’s hand is warm and the perfect size, his fingers short, his palms broad, a callous on the heel of his palm from the stock of a blaster.

Poe rubs it with the tips of his fingers for a second, briefly entranced by a thought. A thought of Finn, much like many before it.

Unable to decipher his own inner monologue, Poe in stead takes the lead, dragging Finn away from the bread crumbs and spilled booze and the single bottle they forgot and left sitting on a chair next to Snap. All in all, a successful night, bellyaches notwithstanding.

“Alright, baby, here we are,” Poe announces when they reach the stairs. His room is one floor up, he’s sure they can make it to his quarters if they just...try. Try really hard.

“Baby is me,” Finn says. Poe realizes he called Finn “baby” and laughs out loud, too loud for a sober person. Loud enough to wake people up, probably.

“Okay, _baby_ , let’s take these stairs,” he babbles. Finn snorts a laugh back at him like it’s some kind of private joke, and then trips on the very first step, only saving himself from bashing his head in by grabbing the railing and Poe’s shoulder.

Poe is also laughing uncontrollably while he tries to gain leverage and stand up again, yanking Finn with him.

And so, one stair at a time, they make their way up to Poe’s quarters.

“Baby,” Finn murmurs, engaging poe in a full body hug but...from behind, because Poe is busying himself with opening the sliding door to his quarters. “ _Baby, baby…_ ” Finn rambles.

"You know what’s worse than 'baby'?’ Poe asks.

“What?” Finn murmurs quietly, leaning heavily on Poe.

“ _Babe,_ ” Poe snorts.

“Hah!” Finn laugh-shouts right in his ear. Poe also laughs.

Then they stumble into his room, the door shutting behind him. BB-8 is situated at it’s charging dock, asleep. Or as close to asleep as a droid can get; ”powered down” would be a more accurate term.

Finn dislodges himself from Poe’s shoulders and meanders to Poe’s bed immediately, almost tripping over every single tiny thing on the floor on his way. He stands before it for a moment, looking out the tiny window over the bed at the wilderness of D'Qar. The back of the pilot’s quarters faces away from the rest of the base, the steely perimeter barely visible beneath the canopy of tress from the second floor. It's raining outside, small droplets of water doing their pitter patter dance against the pane of reinforced glass. Then Finn flops face first onto the bed, legs hanging off the side.

“I want food,” Finn complains.

“Don’t have any, buddy,” Poe mutters, walking forward to sit with him on the bed. Finn whimpers.

“Stomach hurts,” Finn says in his gruff, strained voice.

“It’ll pass, it’ll pass,” Poe comforts, patting Finn’s broad, warm back. He can feel the dip of his spine and his thick musculature and his shoulder blades through the thin, standard issue shirt he’s wearing. Long sleeves, grey. Cheap fabric, but good enough at keeping the heat in and the rain out.

He can’t help kneading a bit at the relaxed swell of muscle to Finn’s back in what must be a drunken parody of a massage. Finn seems to like it, though, grunting out a happy sigh.

“Thanks for taking care of me tonight,” Finn says. “I had fun.”

"No problem,” Poe assures, “it’s what friends are for.”

“I’m sorry I’m acting all weird,” Finn says. Poe laughs.

“It’s okay, you’re drunk. So am I. I’m acting all weird right now, too,” he replies.

Finn just lets him touch his back for a while. Poe almost thinks he’s fallen asleep until he speaks up again.

“Poe, I love you,” he says.

“Love you too,” Poe answers.

“I know I said that a lot today, but you’re a great man,” Finn says, turning his head so he’s facing Poe. Or, rather, the side of Poe’s hip from his line of sight. “You probably hear this all the time, but you’re a great man.”

Poe rolls his lower lip between his teeth. There’s that entrancing thing again, that hypnotic pull. He is alight with pride.

“Thank you, Finn,” Poe says. “It’s an honor to hear you say that.”

“It’s an honor to be here to say it,” Finn says and smiles sadly up at him.

“You deserve to be here, Finn,” Poe says, still bleary and half wishing he was sober for this conversation, but half thankful that he’s drunk. He’s bad with words, stumbles over himself; maybe it’s better that his inhibitions are effectively destroyed.

“I’m going to deserve it,” Finn murmurs. “I’m going to do everything I can to deserve it.”

“The First Order doesn’t do well with the concept of-of-” he loses his sentence, and then finds it again, “-of human life having inherent worth, huh?”

Finn stares at him for a moment, and then snorts out a little laugh. "No. They don't.”

“Well, it does. Have worth, I mean.”

“Thanks, Poe.”

Poe nods.

“Okay, roll over,” Poe says, pushing Finn around on the bed so that his legs are on it and he’s rolled onto his back. Neither of them are the most coordinated they’ve ever been, but they manage. He’s heavy but moves without much difficulty, floppy like overcooked pasta. He giggles and his arms swing around too easily. Poe gets a grip on Finn’s wide, thick bicep and whistles down at him. “Been hittin’ the gym?”

“Hittin’ it hard,” Finn rumbles back up at him. Poe has always been a little envious of that voice. It’s a damn, DAMN good voice, and on a man like Finn it’s practically a siren call.

Poe tries to lie down next to him, but before he can flop down Finn drags him to the side and overtop of him to Poe is half lying on top of him, half propped up on his elbows. “Cuddle me,” Finn whines.

Poe laughs and grins uncontrollably, suddenly overwhelmed with affection. “You’re the touchiest fuckin’ drunk, Finn.”

“I have feelings and needs,” Finn pouts. His grown-ass man pout is one of the cutest things Poe has ever seen, lower lip all pushed out, eyebrows drawn together. Poe mimics the expression back at him and it makes Finn laugh, the reverberations bouncing Poe slightly against his chest. Poe really can’t help the way he just puts all his weight down on Finn, his body not really listening to his brain. His brain not really listening to itself, in fact.

Finn squirms under him. His chest is warm and flat against Poe’s. And then something else that is warm (but not nearly as flat) is against Poe's thigh.

Poe snorts a little laugh. “You’re hard,” he says.

Finn slings an arm over his eyes, but doesn’t look embarrassed, smiling brightly up at Poe. “I’m not.”

"You are, I can feel it.”

Finn peeks up at him from under his own forearm. “Are _you?_ ” he breathes, and his breath smells like alcohol and dinner.

“Not yet,” Poe mutters in response, even as his own brain asks _“what does that mean?”_ to itself over and over, hoping to break through the delirium.

He just has to tear his eyes away form Finn’s beautiful, complicated, smiling mouth. He just has to manage that.

His own mouth feels incredibly dry and empty.

A lot of thoughts swim through his brain. Thoughts of Finn the rebel gunner, having his back in that TIE fighter. Thoughts of Finn wielding Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber against Kylo Ren, thoughts of Finn, willing to do _anything_ to protect Rey. Thoughts of Finn, drunk for the first time, smiling up at him with that incredibly warm, familiar little twinkle in his eye.

The blooming thing inside his ribcage physically pushes him down, forces their lips together, smashing them into one like a stellar collision. Finn grunts a surprised “Wh-” for only a split second before his mouth gets swallowed up in a sloppy wet kiss.

He’s been trying to close up that blooming thing, trying to force its petals shut with his bare hands, restraining it with fists. Those petals, unfurling to slip between his fingers with each passing day, light up the very second he feels Finn respond, the very instant that he tilts his head to kiss Poe back.

And like that, with that gesture of confirmation, of validation, it explodes out of his hands so fiercely that he wonders at how naive he was to ever have thought that he could restrain it.

 _“This is reckless,”_ part of his brain says. _“You should stop and talk about it tomorrow,"_ that part insists. 

Then he’s kissing Finn more ferociously than he’s kissed anyone in years. Finn kisses back and there’s passion where he expected rejection, tenderness where he expected revulsion. Poe's thoughts, smeared but readable, seem to blur out of existence. Then there’s just the sound of their shared breath echoing off the walls and the way it feels when Finn’s hand moves to grab gracelessly at the swell of Poe’s ass.

In reality, it’s not a great kiss. Poe isn’t at the top of his game and neither is Finn. Together they make a slobbery, whimpering disaster. But Poe can’t really tell in the moment. He just knows how it feels on the inside and how he never wants that feeling to stop.

Finn pushes one of his shoulders up and rolls Poe over. Poe cackles, legs kicking up and wrapping around Finn’s midsection, shoes still on. He can feel the scratch of the stubble forming along Finn’s jawline, the softness of his lips, the press of his cheek against Poe’s when he misses the second kiss.

There’s a tumbling of hands and zippers and whispered things they will not remember clearly. Before Poe really knows what’s happening, he’s palming the front of Finn’s pants, grabbing gently, massaging what he finds as they rock together, Poe against Finn’s thigh and Finn into Poe’s hand. Finn moans, loud and unrestrained, in Poe’s ear and Poe's head tips back, a sigh pouring out of his mouth like hot water out of a kettle’s spout.

They kiss and smear against each other and for a moment Poe can’t tell them apart, can tell where he ends and Finn begins, all just hands and limbs and straining noises. It’s messy, so messy that it’s perfect, part of Poe reveling in feeling like this. Sex is a practiced art for him, a tired sport, but for once it’s like _this_ , for once it FEELS like this. Like he’s nineteen again, like Finn is his first, but without all the hangups and the nervousness that accompanied his first fuck.

It’s gloriously uncomplicated. Finn doesn’t try to blow him and Poe doesn’t try to make anything fancy or mind-blowing happen. They just rut against each other and grab at each other helplessly like drunk fools, and the whole time, through every kiss, Poe can feels Finn’s teeth because he won’t stop smiling. They chatter, but Poe can hardly even understand himself.

Poe looks down and finds both of their pants pushed down, himself on top of Finn, dragging their bodies together. The soft fabric of their underwear separates them, the head of Finn’s cock peeking out of the band of his standard issue, slate-grey briefs that look simply TOO good on him, and Poe can’t help the way he drools a line of spit onto Finn’s neck. Finn laughs and lets him lick it up apologetically as the hard, fleshy heat of their cocks mingles through the thin fabric.

“ _Poe_ ,” Finn whispers reverently, and it sounds so pretty in his bold, deep, unreserved voice. Poe delights in how shy Finn _isn’t,_ in the way they seem to fit together so easily that he wonders why they haven’t been together since day one.

It’s a scary thrill, Poe thinks, when he realizes how close he is to being in love. To close, frighteningly close, like standing at the edge of a pit full of syringes; either morphine or heartbreak. This is the beginning. This is how it starts.

“Finn, I’m gonna come,” he breathes because he is, he is, it _aches_.

"Do it,” Finn whimpers up at him, their bodies undulating clumsily together. “ _Come on me,_ ” he purrs up at Poe who could just about die. The way Finn’s exposed belly-his shirt is hiked up under his arms, when did that happen?-rolls, the way his abdominal muscles flex and relax with each upward press of his hips, the way their fingers intertwine on the pillow next to Finn’s head, all of it could kill him.

It’s pretty damn magical, Poe thinks, in that senseless way that he does when he wonders how the Force works or looks out from the cockpit of his X-wing and into deep space.

“Poe, _please,_ ” Finn begs, rolling his entire body up _hard_ , and Poe gasps, his thighs shaking. It’s so intense, so simple, overbearing on his exposed nerves. His hips jerk without rhythm, his stomach tenses up tight and then he hears the sound that comes out of his mouth like something in a porno being played next door.

He comes violently across Finn’s chest, their cocks still pressed together, pulsing deliciously against Finn. Three even spurts of semen streak out over Finns hard belly, and Poe sees stars, breathing hard into Finn’s shoulder and unable to contain the nonsense he must be babbling like an open tap.

From Finn all he hears is a delicate little “ _Oh,_ ” that almost sounds surprised. He feels a hand grip his hair, watches Finn’s head tilt back, and then memorizes his expression as orgasm rocks over him like the tide, as it quakes through them both like a natural disaster. Poe can feel the pulse of Finn's cock through his own sore, overstimulated sex.

Poe catches a blurry glimpse of their spunk on Finn's belly (and a little on the hem of his shirt) before he flops over to the side, pants bunched around his thighs, underwear damp, breathing so hard it almost hurts.

Beautifully, gloriously uncomplicated.

“So good, baby,” Finn whispers, sucking clumsy, open-mouthed kisses against the shell of Poe’s ear. “You’re the best, Poe,” he breathes.

“No, _you,_ ” is the last thing Poe remembers saying.

When he wakes up the first time, he doesn’t feel good. He doesn’t have the brain power to know what the problem is, just that he's feeling abstractly “not good,” no doubt a symptom of imbibing alcohol the previous night. His mind doesn’t make the connection. He opens his eyes very briefly to see Finn, rolled to face him, shirt still up under his arms. It's sort of confusing for a moment, before- _oh._

 _"Oh yeah,"_ he thinks and smiles to himself, secretly pleased and warm in the middle. But he cant convince himself to get out of bed or pull his pants up-even though his ass is cold-and goes back to sleep.

The second time he wakes up, he feels pretty damn good even though he has no right to. He yawns, stretches, and sits up, feeling a deep seated satisfaction in his belly, both emotional and physical. He smacks his lips together; his mouth tastes gross. That’s right, he got drunk last night. Didn’t brush his teeth.

He looks down at his lap. Somebody pulled his pants up. Why were his pants down?

Oh. Oh. _Oh!_

He snaps to attention. “Finn-!” he starts, but Finn isn’t there. Strangely, (or perhaps not strangely at all) he has neatly made the bed around Poe, tucking him in carefully. Poe feels entirely too babysat for a 32 year old man and frowns slightly, having really hoped Finn would be there when he woke up. Well, he didn't hope that-at least, not that he can remember-due to being out of it, but he hopes it in retrospect.

But there’s a note on the nightstand, and from the way the light come sin through the window almost directly downward, he’d say he slept through breakfast. He scoots over and swings his legs over the side of the bed and-his shoes are on-grabs the note.

 _Poe,_  
_Had to head to breakfast, but you looked really tired. Figured you might be hungover. I brought you something back, it’s on your desk under some wrap. _  
_Finn___

Poe feels himself smiling, feels it in the crinkle of his eyes. He bites his lip, holding the note to his mouth and looking out over it at nothing.

“Okay,” he whispers to himself.

He tries to convince himself that _of course_ this happened, it was bound to happen. But really, it wasn’t. He would have been in denial forever. But it happened anyway, in spite of everything, and Poe feels giddy in a way he hasn’t since he was a much younger man.

He gets out of bed to go inspect his breakfast. Indeed, it’s standard plus a cup of caf. He scarfs down what he can, eager to talk to Finn, ask him about last night, about what it might have meant. He does feel a little guilty that what happened...happened like it did. Doing it drunk probably wasn’t the best idea. But Finn did’t seem to hold a grudge.

Still, best to ask. He washes and dresses and downs the caf.

When he finds Finn again he’s sitting with Jessika in the hangar, plopped down on a crate that once contained parts for her ship. Jessika is covered in engine oil and chatters loudly at him from atop a ladder, BB-8 tucked against Finn’s shin like a dog at the feet of it’s master. BB-8 seems to have warmed up, at least.

BB-8 was in the room for last night. Poe makes a mental note to apologize, assuming BB-8 managed to record anything. The droid never seems to have reservation about the reproductive activities of organics, (boring and unsanitary, apparently) but he figures it’s polite, anyway.

“Finn!” he says, running up to him. BB-8 chirps at him in acknowledgement.

Jessika looks over her shoulder too and whistles at him. "Dameron, get over here!” she shouts, sliding down the ladder she’s on to greet him. Poe skids to a nervous halt in front of her stare, and Finn looks away, smiling slightly.

“A little birdie told me you managed to squeak out a quickie last night after I left,” her eyebrows move up on her face, “with _that_ certain little birdie,” she says.

“Who apparently can’t keep his mouth shut,” Poe says, staring faux-accusingly at Finn.

“Sorry,” Finn apologizes, shooting Poe a winsome smile. “She was grilling me about it all morning.”

“He walked out of the pilot’s wing at 6 am, what was I supposed to assume? That you two played patty cake all night, and THAT was why his shirt was all crusty?” she accuses.

“Should have escaped out the window like in the holovids,” Finn says.

“What kind of holos have you been-” Poe starts, before Snap rolls up on the trio, grinning like a loon.

“Dameron! Heard the commander got some last night.”

“Oh my stars-who all did you tell?” Poe demands, turning to Finn. Finn shrugs.

Everyone. Finn told everyone because of COURSE he did. Poe puts his face in his hands. He’s an adult and should handle these things maturely.

“It's not a big deal,” Finn says. “Was it okay for me to talk about, or-”

"No, no, it’s fine,” Poe insists, smiling at him, shamefully proud of these development in spite of his bashful awkwardness.

“Yeah, _plus,_ " Jessika says, making finger guns at Finn, “bigger news!”

“Bigger news?” Poe mutters quietly, turning a surprised look at Finn who is smiling casually up at Jessika. What the hell else could Finn have gotten up to since they last saw each other only a few hours ago?

“Finn got his cherry popped last night!”

Poe’s mind stutters to a complete, stunned halt. He looks blankly at Finn, who Jessika is high fiving with both hands. He’s smiling. Poe watches him, completely shocked. For a moment he feels a swell of something like honor, but it's quickly smothered by guilt. No, no. No.

“What?” Poe asks, as if that whole scenario was something he imagined and reality is (hopefully) different.

Snap just whoops at Finn from somewhere behind Poe.

“The big man himself got deflowered,” Jessika says, pretending to pinch Finn’s cheek and getting her hand slapped playfully away.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m some blushing virgin,” he says, entirely more casual than Poe feels is appropriate for the situation.

“ _Not any more you ain't,_ ” Jessika says with a dirty little laugh, elbowing him in the shoulder.

“Wait, wait,” Poe says, waving his hands around as if to dispel a particularly horrible mirage. “You...you were a _virgin?_ ”

Finn looks up at him. "Yeah?”

“You had never had sex before?”

"That’s what a virgin is, yes,” Finn confirms, giving Poe an _“are you messing with me, because I have been messed with a lot since I got here,”_ stare, all flat with his eyebrows low.

Poe swallows.

He fucked Finn. He fucked Finn drunk and quick in his bunk for the first time in Finn’s life, the first time _ever_. He feels profoundly confused and profoundly ashamed of himself.  


HE fucked Finn. Him. He is the first person Finn has ever had sex with. He was the first person Finn had ever gotten that physically intimate with, had ever trusted with that responsibility, had ever let see him like that, and Poe-Poe was drunk, Poe doesn’t remember what he said, Poe is sure it couldn’t have been that good, no matter how fondly he remembers it. He knows he was clumsy, knows it was rushed, knows that what they did was quick and dirty on top of the sheets with shoes still on.

“Can I speak to you in private, Finn?" he requests gently.

Jessika and snap look at each other, faces suddenly blank. Finn’s smile melts off.

“Um, sure?” Finn says, brows drawn together. He seems confused, suddenly very nervous. He follows Poe out of the hanger and onto the landing strip where no one is loitering about to hear their conversation. Drill for the day haven’t commenced yet so no one is outside, the sky clear and the ground damp from last night’s rain.

“What’s on your mind, Poe Dameron?” Finn asks when they’re out of Jessika and Snap’s earshot, smiling but obviously concerned, reaching out to take Poe’s hand only for Poe to yank it away.

“Um, listen,” Poe starts, heart pounding in his chest. He’s such a fuckup. How could he do that, how could he let that happen? “I'm sorry, I didn't mean...”

Finn’s smile fades and his eyes go wide. Poe watches in restrained horror as some kind of withering despairs leaks over his expression.

"Oh,” Fin says. Ah, shit. Poor phrasing. Poe is bad with words. This time, just this one time, couldn't he get it right?

“I mean, I,” Poe says, pacing back and forth, rubbing the nape of his neck. How does he say this? how does he apologize for fucking up that bad? “I didn’t know you were a virgin, Finn!”

“I’m sorry, is that…” Finn laughs, but it’s humorless. “Was my inexperience that significant? I felt like i did okay,” he says, ans his voice is so incredibly small.

Poe stops in his tracks and looks up, shaking his head. “No, no, you did great! Finn, you did fine, _trust me_. Your performance is so far from being the issue that it's actually,” he coughs out a wry little chuckle, “actually sort of laughable.”

“Oh,” Finn says, breathing out a relieved sigh and then looking properly concerned, mouth pressed into a line and eyebrows drawn together. “Then what’s the issue?”

Poe just stares at him for a moment. “The issue is-Finn, the issue is that we had drunk sex on a whim, and it was your very first experience, and-” he sighs, frustrated with himself, his inability to articulate what he means. He runs a hand through his hair, stressed.

“Yeah?” Finn coaxes, taking a step forward as if _he_ should be comforting _Poe_ and it makes Poe feel sort of disgusting. He takes a step away. Finn looks worried.

“I mean, you didn’t...you didn’t know what you were doing, and I should have known that,” Poe says. “I should have stopped the moment we kissed, I should have gone to bed and brought it up with you the next morning, waited until I could do it right. I shouldn’t have just fuckin’ jumped in like that,” he cackles dryly and humorlessly at himself. “Everybody out of the pool, here comes Dameron to fuck shit up!”

He throws his arms in the air in what he knows probably looks like a tantrum.

And then Finn delivers a hard punch to his arm.

Not as hard as Finn CAN punch; Poe knows, he’s seen Finn flatback guys and gals on the mat. But it certainly does sting, clearly less playful than it normally would be.

“Finn!”

“Oh,” Finn says, realization dawning. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“Finn, what-what are you doing?”

“I-because-!” Finn splutters, giving Poe a look like he’s the most dense human being to ever walk the surface of any planet in any system. “Because _I knew what I was doing!_ ” Finn shouts back at him. “You are _so-!_ ” Now it’s Finn's turn to mime out a tantrum.

“What?”

“I knew what I was doing! I mean, I was a little-yeah, we both were, but...I wouldn’t have if I didn't want to. Do you think I’m...I don’t know, celibate or something? Do you think you broke some holy vow, besmirched my virtue, picked the lock the ol’ chastity belt?”

Finn mimes picking a lock over his crotch and Poe can’t help snorting a laugh into his hand. It’s ridiculous. Finn is annoyingly charming even when Poe is trying to be mad at him-or himself? It hard to tell any more.

“Poe, you’re overreacting. It’s seriously nothing,” Finn insists. This is where Poe has to disagree.

“No, it’s _not_ nothing,” Poe says. “I should have asked, I should have waited. Your first time- _I can’t believe I just said that_ -should be a totally conscious choice, a totally conscious experience!”

“It was a conscious choice! I walked up those stairs, you think I couldn’t say no? It’s _one syllable,_ Poe.”

“Your judgement was impaired!”

“You think I’d just decide to fuck you if you poured a little ale down my throat? I knew that before I ever touched that crap!”

“But it wasn’t _good enough_!” Poe says-shouts, really. Finn stops, staring wide eyed at him, and then they’re both just standing a few feet apart, breathing. Poe's mind catches up to Finn's words and he feels a deep burn in his chest, a heat at the back of his neck and in his cheeks. _I knew that before I ever touched that crap._ Poe swallows and looks away. “It wasn’t like it should have been. It's supposed to be...I don't know, magical or some shit! It's supposed to be _great,_. You deserve that!

It’s quiet for a moment. For a moment there’s just the sound of the forest and the distant mechanical noise of the ships. It’s just their breathing, out on the landing strip, standing on the tarmac together. Finn is looking at him with wide, open eyes and Poe realizes he's never yelled at Finn before. Not like this, anyway; they've shouted to each other, but never at each other.

“Is that what you think?” Finn asks, finally.

“Wh-yes, that’s what I think!” he says, looking at Finn, who seems strangely calm.

Poe barely remembers the first time he had sex. Not that it bothers him-the first time is never the BEST time-but the idea that he could do something like that to Finn hurts him. The idea that he could make something that could be so great so forgettable and weak makes him feel like he's robbed Finn of something.

Finn sighs, “Poe,” he says, and walks forward. Poe, wishing he was a stronger man, just lets Finn take his hand. It’s not a tight, passionate hold; It’s barely a touch of fingers. But something about it feels more intimate that any death-grip. “It’s what I _wanted._ And that’s _exactly_ what it’s supposed to be.”

“What?” Poe protests, “I mean-”

“Poe, I wanted to have sex with you,” he says, looking Poe dead in the eyes. Poe has to avert his gaze. Finn always speaks a little too frankly and a little too suddenly for him to keep up. “I decided I wanted to have stupid, drunk sex with you. It _was_ great.”

“But-”

“Hey,” Finn murmurs, somehow calming, and Poe wonders how their roles got reversed like this. Finn slings and arm over his shoulder, his other hand still holding Poe's, their foreheads suddenly touching. Poe wonders if Finn can feel the sweat on his wrinkled brow. “You mean more to me than that.”

Poe swallows. “What? but-you said-”

“Poe, You’re one of my best friends,” Finn says, seeming suddenly shy. “Maybe more than that, if you’d like,” he adds. “One night isn’t going to ruin that. I had a nice time. It was really fun,” he comforts, smiling warmly at Poe, who’s heart is hammering out of his chest. "Thanks for that. I wouldn't have picked anyone but you.”

Poe breathes out some of the tension, but it's replaced by an all new glow. _Wouldn't have picked anyone but you._ “Okay. Okay, I just-look at it from my perspective, alright? If I’d known, I would’ve done things differently, I would have...treated you right, or special, or _something,_ I don’t know.”

“I should have told you,” Finn says. “That was my mistake. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would matter, I mean...I’m 23 years old. I was just ready for it to happen, I didn’t think about the consequences.”

“I don’t think either of us did spectacularly well in that department,” Poe grouses. Finn laughs a tired little laugh.

“Nobody got hurt, though,” Finn says.

“Nobody?” Poe asks.

“ _Nobody,_ ” Finn confirms, nodding slightly, and then leaning in, pressing a delicate kiss to Poe’s lips, his mouth chilled by the open air of D'Qar, tasting of caf and the outdoors. “We’ll do better next time,” Finn murmurs into Poe’s mouth, hand on the back of his head. Poe’s spare hand moves to hold Finn’s hip.

“Next time?” Poe breathes with a little dash of hope.

“I mean,” Finn stutters, “if-if you want-”

“Oh, I _want,_ ” Poe says a little too loudly, smiling broadly at Finn, relieved beyond belief.

Finn grins widely and openly at him. “And the time after that, and the time after that, and the time after that,” Finn implies. Poe snorts. Their noses touch and Finn bites his lip. His eyelashes look pretty against his cheek.

“Okay, I’m done having a shit-fit,” Poe sighs, finally resigned to whatever this is.

"Okay, nice,” Finn agrees. “Me too.”

“Can we go back inside? It’s chilly out here.”

“Yeah, lets go back inside.”

Poe moves to walk back, and Finn grabs him again. "Wait, wait, before that," he exhales, licking his lips. "Um," he starts, looking everywhere but in Poe's eyes, and then leans in to press a kiss to Poe's lips.

Poe has to smother the happy squeal that wants to rise up out of him. He throws his arms around Finn's shoulders, diving in immediately. Finn stumbles back with an alarmed grunt and then Poe feels the twist of a smile on his lips. He feels it all much more acutely this time, everything twice as intense now that he can finally process it all, now that all that sensation isn't layered on top of booze and blurry vision. Finn pushes back against him with challenging enthusiasm, pressing his tongue into Poe's mouth and winding his fingers into Poe's dense curls. Finn's body is so warm, his hands so soft, his touch firm but gentle.

Finally, Poe wrenches them apart with a wet sound and heavy breathing, their chests heaving together, lips glossy, bodies heated

"Congratulations on the new boyfriend," Poe croaks out, giving Finn what he hopes is a winning smirk.

Finn grins brightly, eyes twinkling and a little watery, his smile as clear as day. "Thanks," he replies, "you too." Then he thinks for a moment. "First fight is over with, I guess."

Poe laughs. No, a first fight is screaming and almost walking away. That was a first _spat_. "You've never been in real fight with somebody you care about, huh," Poe says. The first fight is a hurdle they'll take when they get to it.

"Somebody I _love,_ " Finn says. Poe's next words, whatever they were, catch in his throat. Finn chews his lips. A drop of water hits Poe's cheek and he doesn't even notice the way the sky has turned grey. "I mean it. I meant it all the other times, too."

"Really?"

"Do I strike you as a great liar?"

"Unfortunately we're both damn awful at lying."

Finn shrugs. "Honesty is the best policy."

Poe laughs. Nothing is really funny, he's just relieved. So much has happened in the past 24 hours, but it turned out much better than he could ever have expected. Yesterday he was so deep in denial about the whole _Finn_ thing he could probably swim in it, but right now, on the dirty landing strip with a slight rain starting to come down, he's got him for keeps.

Finn kisses him again, running a hand through his hair. Poe is allowed only a moment to truly revel in it before rolling thunder roars and then claps across the sky.

Finn separates, giving his own soft, reassured little laugh as the rain pours down harder.

"Shit, let's get inside for real. It's really coming down now," Finn says.

"Love you too, Finn," Poe blurts over the sound of the rain on the tarmac. His hair is wet. Finn grins and takes his hand, running back to the hangar with him as the rain comes down in powerful grey sheets to bathe and renew their little section of D'Qar.

**Author's Note:**

> i downed an iced coffee and finished this in a few hours. i dont even know if it makes sense ? but it exists


End file.
